Safe to Smile
by Nixi Stasia
Summary: My theory on Alfendi Layton. Spoilers for Lost/Unwound Future.


**AN: So, this oneshot is quite simply my theory on Alfendi Layton and how he is Professor Layton's son. Enjoy!**

 _ **I do not own Professor Layton, nor do I own the Layton Brothers. Both are owned by Level-5 and this is merely fan work.**_

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Safe to Smile

The newly appointed archaeology Professor sat in the living room of the flat he had once shared with Claire Foley. The now late Claire Foley.

Now that she was gone, the flat was far too... Empty. It was a small place, but with the two of them living happily together, it was a home. Both worked full time and so they were only there on evenings and weekends, but they were the best memories Hershel had. And that was all they were now: memories. Memories of cozy nights with games of scrabble and hot chocolate; rainy days with indoor picnics and pots of tea; lazy Sundays with pancakes and books.

He sighed gently as he glanced around the baron flat that he could no longer call home. His gaze trailed towards the front door, the only point of entry to the flat, and closed his eyes. He could almost hear the door swing open, and the sound of her light footsteps (they were so distinctive) tap against the floorboards as she would arrive home. She always greeted him with a call of "I'm home" and he loved those two simple words so much.

It really was the best home he could ever wish for, but it was _her_ had who made it a home. What was it now? A flat. Nothing more. Four walls. Nothing more. A rented room of isolation. Nothing more.

-X-X-X-

"Here you go, Alfendi," The social worker beamed as she lead him to his room. "This will be your new home until we find some new parents for you."

The teenage boy scoffed at the woman's words as he stepped into the bland room. Home? This was nothing of the sort. It was damp, dirty and dark. The walls were a filthy white; they'd been painting years ago and never cleaned. There was a window at the end of the closet sized room (twelve by twelve feet, Alfendi estimated) but his room faced the back of an alley that was surrounded by thick wildlife, so its purpose was meaningless. Only a line of sunlight made its way to the window, but then it was blocked by the broken blind. Ironically, there were many rips across the grey blind, but the one spot that was fully intact was where the sun rays hit. Obviously, this would change as the hours went by, but how typical that it would be like this when he first saw his new 'home'. No, he couldn't call this his home.

As the social worker walked into the room, the floor boards creaked at the weight of her feet. Alfendi's gaze trailed down so that his crimson hair fell over his face. He studied the floor with both curiosity and disgust, and he watched the floorboards sink as the woman (he vaguely remembered her introducing herself as Sarah) took each of her steps towards the bed that stood against the left wall. The sheets seemed clean, but were nothing but white linen. Nothing like the blue sheets that he knew his bed in _his_ home to be.

Sarah placed Alfendi's suitcase down on the bed before opening it. She proceeded to pull open the chest of drawers that stood at the foot of the bed. Three drawers. That wasn't enough room for storage of clothes alone, let alone his books. Perhaps that was why he was only allowed to bring a suitcase and no more.

Alfendi sat down on the bed and watched Sarah pick up his clothes with her long nails.

"I'll do that," He told her. There was so little tone in his voice that the social worker felt she had no choice but to stop.

"Very well," She nodded. "I'll leave you to get used to things here. When the bell rings dinner will be ready. Then, you can come down and meet the rest of the children who live here."

Alfendi frowned on the inside, wondering how on earth anybody could 'live' here.

-X-X-X-

The next morning, the Professor was reading over the newspaper. Only a small article in the local newspaper spoke of the event that had left him so devastated. The explosion only took the lives of ten people, but had made many more homeless and had caused major destruction, yet this was the only record of it in the media. The Professor began to wonder how many other events like this had been 'forgotten' in an attempt to make the country seem like a better, safer place. He didn't want to think about it.

He placed his cup of tea down and rubbed his temples and then his heavy eyes; he'd barely slept. He began to flick through the rest of the newspaper, hoping for perhaps some sort of distraction. He and Claire always read the morning paper together.

 _Waterstone Children's Home_

 _Children in urgent need of new homes_

Hershel noticed the add and half glanced over it. Then he read it again. And then again. And then, he had an idea.

-X-X-X-

"Hello, sorry about the wait, Mr Layton," The social worker hastily sat down at the desk, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

The Professor noted her messy, untidy hair, but as a gentleman, said nothing about it. Besides, he'd struggled so much to maintain his own hygiene as of late (of course he'd put in effort for today, though) that he couldn't judge. He'd even bought a new outfit to match the top hat, the last present that Claire had given him; an orange sweater that matched the brim of the hat, and a deep brown jacket and trousers to match the main body of the hat. Glancing at the social worker in front of him, he assumed her messy attire was due to the stress of the job. Her blouse had been done up wonky.

"Not at all, Miss...?" He asked for a name.

"Sarah," She nodded, barely looking up as she rummaged among the many papers in the desk. The office was just as disorganised as the Professor had expected. He seemed to know that children's homes weren't particularly nice places. "Sorry. So- err- Mr layton. What sort of child were you looking for?"

The Professor found the question rather horrid. It didn't seem to be phrased appropriately, as the Professor understood exactly what she meant. The words, however, made her seem rather careless and dismissive. Especially over something as important as children.

"Well, actually," The Professor began. "I recently lost my fiancee in the explosion at the Institute for Polydimensional Research." That wasn't strictly true, in all fairness. Claire was not the Professor's fiancée, but she would have been soon, if it hadn't been for the explosion. The ring was still in a box in his sock drawer. He had yet to move it, and he doubted he ever would. "We were planning a family, and so I was wondering if you had any children that had been left in your care after the event. There was one boy in particular, who I saw crying on the streets, after his parents had-"

"Oh, yes," Sarah nodded, pulling out a green paper folder from underneath a mountain of loose papers. "We had two boys who lost their parents in that, yes. One who was nine and the other who was fourteen. The nine year old was adopted just the other day."

"Oh, I imagine that the younger boy was the one I met on the day of the explosion," Hershel began.

"Oh, I see," Sarah said. "Sorry about that. Didn't want to waste your time."

"Not at all," The Professor shook his head. "The other, elder, boy hasn't been adopted yet?"

Sarah seemed to hesitate. The archaeologist couldn't quite tell if she was in disbelief or reluctant to give the child a home.

"No, he hasn't," The social worker denied. "Would you be interested? I'll be honest and tell you it's rare we find homes for children over the age of twelve. Most people are interested in the younger ones."

"I'm interested in finding a home for someone who needs one," The Professor said firmly.

"Very well," Sarah nodded. "Great, well. His name's Alfendi. We'll give you a call tomorrow and arrange a time over the next couple of days for you to come and pick the boy up and take him home."

"T-that's it?" Hershel frowned slightly. Surely there would be more to that than finding a home for a child?

"Well, normally it would take a few weeks for a CRB check, but because you're an educator you're bound to have no record," Sarah answered rather bluntly. "We're so swamped with children at the moment that we don't need to worry about that in your case."

"Oh..."

"Very well. Thank you very much," The social worker pointed to the door, in a gesture for him to leave. "We'll be in touch."

-X-X-X-

Alfendi's head turned as the social worker knocked on his bedroom door. The home's rules were that the doors to bedrooms were not allowed to be shut unless it was after lights out (which was eight thirty for the elder children) and whenever a social worker or another child walked past, they saw the teenage boy sitting in the same spot on his bed, staring at the grimy walls. Unless they were being disciplined, the children were allowed to play together and go into other's rooms with the owners permission, but in his week there, Alfendi hadn't once even spoken to another child. He'd smiled briefly at another child, who was perhaps five or six years younger than him, who had lost their parents in the same event, but that was it. Even at mealtimes, he would stare at his food and eat only what was around the edge of the plate, not talking to anyone else once. He'd hoped that he would be allowed to eat in his room, but the social workers didn't allow that.

"Good news, Alfendi," Sarah had a rather bright smile on her face.

Alfendi doubted that this news would be good to him, and he merely stared at her with his eyes- that seemed yellow in certain lights.

"We've found someone who would like to adopt you," Sarah went on. "The procedure's been rather quick in your case- lucky you. We've got some kids here who have been here since they were toddlers, and are now your age."

Alfendi appeared to be completely blank, with no reaction to the news at all. His eyes continued to pierce the social worker; it was clear that he didn't like her. But he liked few people; the social workers there had realised that almost immediately from his school records and reports. Sarah had expected his reaction to the news to be... Well, she hadn't expected one at all. Still, she kept the smile on her face, as it was part of her job.

"You'll be picked up tomorrow by a man named Professor Hershel Layton, and you'll go and live with him. Make sure you're all packed and ready by ten o'clock."

And with that, the social worker left the room, not even wanting to think about how Alfendi would find it in his new home. Besides, he was somebody else's problem now.

-X-X-X-

The next morning, Alfendi stood opposing his bed in the care home. He'd packed his suitcase ready, but not much was in there. He'd lost most of his belongings in the explosion that had killed his parents, but the care home had passed along several bits of clothing down to him like a charity case. He hoped they wouldn't ask for them back, as he'd become rather fond of a blue and red stripy jumper that they'd given him. It was rather big, and would probably fit him well into his adulthood.

The open suitcase sat on the top of his bed. He'd not closed it yet, because he knew that once he had, it would all become (or at least feel) official. Today was either going to be brilliant, or terrible. The best or the worst. Well, the best thing that could happen fairly. Alfendi was far too much of a logical boy to hope that what he really wanted to happen to occur.

There was a gentle knock on his adjacent door, and Alfendi turned to see Sarah.

"Ready?" She asked. There was always that smile on her face. Alfendi suspected that her expression was fake, and had from the beginning. Her tight sleeved blouses suggested that she was a rather uptight person, not a cheerful one. Plus, she always inhaled deeply before she beamed.

Alfendi stared at the suitcase and waited several seconds before he snapped the brown case shut and stood to attention.

"I'll take that as a yes," Sarah nodded once, and pushed open the door wider as a gesture to get him out of the room. "Come on. Mr Layton's downstairs waiting."

Alfendi followed the social worker down the winding staircase. When he first arrived, it made him think of a tower, where all the children were locked away, and the keys had been thrown away. Like in fairytales. Though Alfendi didn't believe in fairytales, of course. They were far too illogical.

If the redheaded boy listened closely, ignoring the sound of his and Sarah's footsteps, he could hear someone place... Was that a china cup- yes, it was- against what sounded to be like a saucer. It was coming from the visitor's room, so this Mr Layton was a tea drinker. That was all he could deduce this far.

Stepping down the stairs, the social worker opened up the door to the visitors' room and Alfendi wandered in behind her. A man, who Alfendi guessed to be in his late twenties, hopped up as they entered the door. The man, who Alfendi assumed was Mr Layton, glanced down towards him and smiled softly. He preferred his smile much more to Sarah's already. He nearly smiled back, but didn't want to show any emotion until they had left the home, and he knew for sure that this was a good thing.

"So, Mr Layton," Sarah introduced. "This is Alfendi. Alfendi, this is Mr Layton."

"Hello, Mr Layton," Alfendi stepped forward, but didn't hold out his hand. Not only did he dislike shaking hands, but he found it too formal for this situation.

"Please, my boy, call me Hershel," The man introduced himself.

"You don't want me to call you father?" Alfendi raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you can if you like, of course. It's your choice."

"Hmm. I'll stick to Hershel for now, thanks."

"Well," Sarah clapped her hands together. "You two seemed to have hit it off."

The pair took that as their queue to leave. Besides, neither of them wanted to stay in their a minute longer.

-X-X-X-

After a bumpy ride home, in a rather rickety red car that Hershel had named (Alfendi found that rather interesting) the 'Laytonmobile', Alfendi was lead to a third floor flat in Gressenheller. It wasn't too far from where his old home was- or rather, _had_ been.. Hershel had been worrying that this would cause some trauma for the adolescent, but Alfendi was just glad that he could attend the same school. He didn't want more to change.

Upon entering the flat, Alfendi stepped into the hallway and glanced around the flat. It was small, but appeared comfortable. Alfendi was tempted to go so far as to call it cozy. He glanced over towards the living room and freely wandered in. He soon spotted a puzzle book laying across the table next to the sofa. He picked it up and inspected the cover. It was well used, and the bind was breaking. Hershel clearly never used a bookmark and instead always placed the book face down and open on whatever page he was on. Looking at the front, he saw that it was only this week's edition and had only been released a couple of days ago.

"You... Like puzzles?" Alfendi asked, looking over at the Professor who was standing in the doorway, allowing Alfendi to explore the place in his own space.

"I do," The Professor took a few steps over. "I suppose you could say I'm an avid puzzler. Do you?"

"Hmm... I prefer mysteries," Alfendi replied. "But puzzles are okay sometimes."

"Mysteries?" The Professor asked. "What sort of mysteries? Mystery novels? I have plenty of them. And some crime."

"Hmm, I do like crime stories," Alfendi replied. "But I only like reading them once to see if I can guess who the murderer is. The same with mysteries. I like to try and figure it out before I finish the book."

"Ah, that certainly sounds fun," Hershel nodded.

"Yes, I solved all of Sherlock Holmes' crimes with him," Alfendi nearly gave a triumphant smile, but stopped himself just in time. "I- erm- have been looking for some new mystery stories to read."

"Well, I've made you a little make-do room- I didn't have much time to prepare it all, but we'll sort that out soon enough, I'm sure- but in it is a bookshelf. We could find you some new books at the bookstore and store them there."

"That would be... Nice."

"Would you like to see your room, Alfendi?" Hershel offered.

Alfendi gave a small nod, placing the puzzle book back down exactly where it was.

"This way then," The Professor gave a small wink, before heading to the door to the left of the kitchen,and opening the door. "Here we are. Now, like I said, I didn't have long to prepare it for you, but I did my best. We can get you new things over the next week. That way, you can choose your own things and make your own little sanctuary."

"Mmm..." Alfendi mumbled as he glanced into the bedroom.

It was small, but bigger than the room at the care home. The walls had been painted a cream, but the brickwork of the walls was visible on the wall facing the window. And this was a window that let in light. Even better, a pair of cream curtains that had no rips in, and were completely clean, hung around the window like a photo frame. Beneath the window, was a single wooden bed, with blue linen sheets. They were also clean. To the left side of the room was a table with a lamp, and beside that was a chest of drawers for putting away clothes. Alfendi didn't think that his few belongings would even take up half the space the drawers offered. Then, turning to his right, he saw, as Hershel had described, a tall bookshelf, and next to it, a woven box that could be used for storage.

"No... No I like it," Alfendi stepped in. The floorboards didn't creak either. "I... I really like it."

"Ah, good to hear, my boy," Hershel beamed.

"Now, may I- is it... Is it alright if I have a few minutes alone in here?"

"Of course," Hershel said with the same smile on his face. "You settle in and come out when you're ready."

With a nod of his head, the Professor shut the door behind him. Alfendi liked the privacy he was now given. Once the door was shut, and he was alone, he glanced around the room one more time.

 _Yes._ He thought, as his lips curved upwards. It was finally safe to smile.

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 **AN: Thanks for reading, guys! Much appreciated.**

 **Now, I have no idea what care homes/orphanages were like in the 1950s/60s but I'm pretty sure they weren't as horrible as I conveyed it to be. The aim was to make Alfendi's conditions seem worse.**

 **I hope you enjoyed it! If y'all left a review I'd be very happy!**

 **Nikki~**


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